Chasing Windmills
by Jemppy
Summary: No one would listen to them, Grey Wardens or not. Whatever Duncan had envisioned for his Grey Warden's battle against the Archdemon, it wasn't this pathetic ragtag group. AU of game events, with Brosca, Surana, and Cousland trying to work together.
1. Example of Misfortune

**AN:** This is the result of three seperate people's playthrough of the game. Watching mine, and my roommate's games allowed me to see the differences between each event much closer together than if I had just played three different characters. It was cool to see how usually we all came to different results. This got me thinking of how those three characters would interact with each other, with such different origins. And so this AU was born.

***

**Chapter 1**: _"I was born to be an example of misfortune."_

***

The first camp they made after emerging from the Korcari Wilds was in the abandoned windmill just north of Lothering, still insight of the village. Brokk had managed to pick the lock on the rotting door, not that it had presented him with much of a challenge. The main room was in a shabby state of disrepair, but then again, that was the current state of the rest of the village.

Brokk had wanted to pry up some of the wooden floor boards to make a fire but the idea was voted down because no one wanted to draw any more attention to their group than there was already. It was mostly his own fault, Brokk conceded, because if it weren't for his almost unconscious nature to cut the purse strings of anyone who walked too close by, maybe they could have slipped through the town unnoticed. But as it were, with the small village inundated with the tide of refugees from the south, everyone was already on edge and more paranoid to blame the newest group of travelers when they realize their coin purse is considerably lighter than it had been moments ago. And he wasn't exactly eager to point out to his companions that the villager's glares and accusations had a ring of truth to them.

Not that he was the only one to blame, though most was definitely his own doing. The sight of two mages, one who clearly fit the image of a witch, and both arriving from the depths of the Wilds, did nothing to endear their group to the town. While Morrigan fulfilled every one of these simple townsfolk's childhood nightmare of a dreaded Witch of the Wild, Rayne, with his smaller stature and sheltered naivety hardly seemed to present himself as a threat. And to be honest, Brokk still has his reservations about the elf's merit to the battlefield. The boy hadn't shirked his responsibility at Ostagar, fightingly alongside the other Wardens up the tower, but nevertheless, Brokk would be watching his own back first before he let the mage cover him.

Brokk had volunteered for the first watch of the night. He wasn't eager to return the nightmare that his sleep has been of late. But of course that was to be expected with the darkspawn taint that now ran through his blood. That first night he had slept without the aid of herbal medicines that had helped him heal after the battle at Ostagar, his mind had been assaulted with the buzzing of the darkspawn hive mind. No intelligible words could be made out, but the intensity of that buzzing had left his mind feeling weak and distracted when he awoke the next morning.

Alistair had explained that, in time, some Grey Wardens manage to understand that buzzing, but that would be years down the road. Looking at the blond knight now, across the room, one couldn't even tell that his mind was troubled by nightmares. But then again, he had more time to adjust to the corruption that now darkened his blood. Not to far off from Alistair, Rayne, tossed and turned in his own bedroll, his own mind grappling with the words of the darkspawn.

Rayne and Brokk had undergone the Joining together, along with the other human, Merrick. The three of them, and Alistair were the only four Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. And now they were charged with the task of saving all of Thedas. Brokk had to snort in disgust at the mere notion that the four of them could achieve something like that when they could barely make it to Lothering. Flemeth, Morrigan's mother, seemed to think that the treaties made years ago would give them an army with enough of a chance to save the world, but Brokk was more practical. No one would listen to them, Grey Wardens or not. They had a bastard Templar, a castless dwarf, an elven mage, and woman who wouldn't speak of her past. Whatever Duncan had envisioned for his Grey Warden's battle against the Archdemon, it wasn't this pathetic ragtag group.

Speaking of Merrick, Brokk noticed the woman was awake and sitting near the one window in the room. As much as Brokk distrusted the young mage, he was equally unsure about the woman. She had arrived several days after Brokk, also recruited by Duncan, still covered in dried blood and smelling of smoke. He eyes held the hardness that was common to see in the women's eyes of Dust Town but this woman was no castless, if humans had such a class. When she did speak, her words were cultured and intelligent, her clothes were finely made once shown brightly. Rayne had quietly asked Duncan where this woman had come from, and was only told from "the lands up north."

The most that she, herself, had revealed, was when Alistair had asked about her name. Brokk still remembered the strange distant look in her eyes when she explained, "My father fought along side King Maric, in the war with Orlais. I was named for the King."

Brokk pulled himself up from his spot on the hard floor and moved to Merrickís side. "If I would have known you were going to stay up, I've taken a later watch."

"As if you could sleep any better than I could, dwarf." She didn't pull her gaze from the window. "And if you steal anything from me, I am chopping your hand off with my axe,"

"As if you manage to swing that behemoth piece of shit before I could shank you with my knife, human." he adopted the same tone as her.

Her sudden, sharp peal of laughter caught him off guard. "Then let us both be glad that we are on the same side, Master Dwarf."

Settling himself on the floor to her side, he grumbled, "I ain't no Master of anything, save perhaps a tankard or something of the likes."

"What about of the stew? That was your concoction we had for dinner, was it not? Surely as I am not dead yet of either poison or indigestion, it couldn't have come from Morrigan or Alistair's hand."

"What can I say, put some real food in front of me, and this dwarf can work some of his own brand of magic." That is the one thing that he has enjoyed since his recruitment, was the steady flow of decent food.

"Yes, the culinary magic is about the only magic that I can understand." Her eyes darted to where Rayne slumbered.

"What is there to understand?" Brokk grumbled.

Merrick propped her head upon her hand and looked back out the window, "It is just strange to me, that's all, I have never seen a mage before I went to Ostagar, apostate or not." she spared a quick look back down to Brokk, "Nor had I seen a dwarf either."

"They must have kept you behind some very high walls up there in the north."

Merrickís mouth thinned into a hard line, "Yes. I suppose,"

"You keep things pretty close to the chest, don't you?" Brokk kept his gaze focused away from the woman, incase she felt backed into a corner by his questioning.

"I just don't see why I should share my life's story with you all." she stonewalled. "I thought that once we became Wardens, we forswore our last names and pasts."

Brokk nodded, "But you can't deny that our pasts made up who we are now. What it taught us gave us the skills that allowed us to become Grey Wardens."

Merrick was silent, still staring out the window. Brokk noticed that the window was facing north. After a moment of silence, she stood and looked down at Brokk, "My mother taught me how to fight," And without saying anything else, she made her way quietly back to her own bedroll.

Looking back at the moon in the window, Brokk realized it was time to wake Alistair for his turn at watch.


	2. Must be Suffered

**AN:** Well here is part 2, still from Brokk's POV. There will be POV shifts coming up. How you enjoy!

***

**Chapter 2:** _"But all this must be suffered..."_

***

Brokk woke up with a stiff back and pounding headache. The back was an ailment that he was used to feeling, back from his days sleeping on the hard stone of Dust Town, but the head was a different story. He cast his foulest glare at Alistair, who was whistling a cheerful tune has he packed up his own bedroll.

Morrigan beat him to the scathing comment, "Must you always make such an infernal racket? Could we be blessed with a few moments of silence from you?"

Alistair, unsurprisingly, began to whistle louder. Brokk grumbled a few choice dwarven curses under his breath and contemplated throwing his boot at the blond knight's head. But that would force him to have to go and retrieve said boot, and that was too much effort for this morning.

Rayne had managed to gathering his supplies quicker than the rest of the group and sat watching the exchanged from his perched position on his rolled up bedding. "Sleep well?" he asked, turning his almond-shaped eyes on Brokk.

"Oh just splendid. I look forward to many more nights in the company of the archdemon," Brokk focused on lacing up the boot that he had originally planned on heaving at Alistair, and now considered aiming for Rayne. Damn elves and their pointed looks.

"I must admit that the archdemon paid me a visit in my dreams as well." Rayne paid no mind to Brokk's irritation. "I do hope I grow accustomed to these visions as soon as possible."

Alistair's whistling ceased. "Some Grey Warden's never do,"

"So what do we do? Never sleep again?" Brokk snapped. "How do you expect us to carry on this plan to save all of Thedas if our minds are constantly weakened by the darkspawn's thoughts?"

"That seems to be Merrick's plan," Morrigan pointed out, watching the other woman gather her things. "I did not hear you rest the entire night."

"I do not see how my sleep habits concern you," Merrick never looked up from her task.

Brokk caught the look of concern that slashed across Alistair's face, "If you're not sleeping, it could affect your skill if we were to meet darkspawn on the road."

"That is most practical, Alistair," Morrigan raised an eyebrow, "more surprising as it came from you."

"Oh haha, more 'Alistair is stupid' jokes from you." he glared at the witch, "Why are you still here anyways? You got us to Lothering, now why don't you jump off a cliff?"

"Ferelden is truly in trouble if you're the senior Warden that remains."

"I never claimed that I was leading this mission, in fact, I think I clearly stated that I prefer to follow." Alistair winced, "And please spare the jokes on my following."

"And I spent most of the night making a list of such jokes."

Brokk tuned out their squabbling and went about finishing packing up the campsite. He noticed that Merrick had never answered to her lack of sleeping, allowing the sniping between Morrigan and Alistair to divert the conversation.

Alistair and Morrigan may have been diverted but Brokk could see that Rayne's attention had not been distracted.

"Seriously, please, do us all a favor and go drown yourself in the nearest bucket of water," Alistair threw up his hands in disgust, turning away from Morrigan. He looked at the three Grey Wardens. "So what now?"

"Morrigan originally suggested we check out the tavern, here, in case we can learn some news of what is going on," Rayne suggested, "I know we didn't get to last night, but who knows what we can learn, maybe we can get some understanding on what Loghain is doing."

Brokk growled low in his throat at the mere thought of Loghain, "I wouldnít mind just tracking that bastard down and repaying him for his deeds in Ostagar."

Rayne shook his head, "We can't just go seeking revenge for what Loghain did, we need to first gather the mages, Dalish, and dwarves, and have them honor the treaties." he gave Brokk a sad look, "Besides Loghain is going to be surrounded by his closest guards and army, how are the five of us able to compete against that?"

"Arl Howe and his men will have joined Loghain as well," Merrick's voice was cool and hard, "but Brokk's idea certainly has merit, even if it's only to satisfy vengeance if not practicality."

"So that we've ruled out a suicide attack on Loghain, shall I assume one of you has a better plan?" Morrigan sounded bored.

"I still think we head to Redcliff and speak with Arl Eamon. He'll have a better understanding on what to do than we could." Alistair began to pace across the dusty room.

"Would it not be better to first secure the words of those owed to our treaties?" Rayne asked, "Then, when we arrive at Redcliff, we can present the Arl with the beginning of an army that not only could stop Loghain, but defeat the Blight?"

Alistair paused in his pacing to consider the elf's words. "True, that does makes sense."

Merrick was finishing strapping her two-handed axe to her back, when she met Alistair's eyes, "Why don't we compromise? We can head into Lothering, to the tavern that Morrigan suggested and try and gather news of what's happening in Ferelden. If Loghain is planing something that just cannot be ignored, then we should act on it. If we can find word on the latest location of a Dalish tribe, then maybe head there first. If urgent news comes in from Redcliff, then that is where we head. What say you?"

Brokk nodded in agreement, "At least with this plan, depending on the news that we receive we can better prioritize our plans."

With the other's consent, their small group left the small, main room of the windmill and ventured out into the farmlands of Lothering. Loud barking met their emergence into the sunlight. Merrick's Mabari warhound, Aziz, came bounding up to her, nearly knocking over Rayne, in his exuberance to see his master.

"You stupid dog, be careful!" Merrickís words were harsh, but her tone was playful. As the dog fell instep with the group as they continued down the dirt path leading away from the windmill, Alistair gave the dog a wary look.

"I don't think your dog likes me."

"Why would you say that?" Merrick asked, ignoring the growl the dog let out as Alistair moved closer.

"Oh I don't know, call it a lucky guess."

Once more, Brokk found himself tuning Alistair's words out as he dropped to the rear of the group. He was much more of an observer than the rest of the group. He had always been that way. That was how he survived in Dust Town. If one got too complacent, and wasn't aware of the coming and goings of those around you, then you might just find yourself, one day, face down in the gutter with a dagger sticking out of your back.

Merrick and Alistair were much more like in temperament than either Rayne or himself. He could tell that the girl was normally a talkative, sarcastic sort if not for whatever circumstances that brought her to Ostagar. And Rayne? Well the kid was nice, in that sort of bland, blank way. Morrigan was really more of the companionship that Brokk appreciated. The quiet sort.

Rayne led the way back into the town, past the fenced farm houses and the public prison cages, into the town square proper. The mage stopped at the door to Dante's Refuge, the town's tavern and read the sign that was tact up in the window. "The tavern doesn't open until mid morning," he announced.

"Why don't we split up," Merrick suggested, "Alistair and I can head into the Chantry and see if anyone there can give us some news, and the rest up you go into that refugee camp down there and see what those people have to say."

When their group had first arrived in Lothering, it was in late evening, shortly after a run in with a group of bandits on the road coming out of the Korcari Wilds. With the blood of the unfortunate bandits still drying on their armor, their ragtag group slinked through the shabby refugee camp, into town. It had been voted to go straight through town, to the farmlands in the north to make camp, rather than head straight into the tavern. Along the way, Brokk didn't help their cause, as he pickpocketed those whom came too close.

"Agreed," Rayne responded, looking relieve not to have to go into the Chantry and submit himself to the priest's pointed stares.

Morrigan, Rayne, and Brokk broke off from the others and headed down the stone stairs to the patch of dirt that many people had claimed for their makeshift tents. In the morning, people were just climbing out of their tents to stoke the pitiful fires that dotted the landscape. Mud covered children sat listlessly around tree stumps and large rocks, looking too exhausted to even attempt at playing some game. While the mothers looked harassed and harried as they tried to round their young up for whatever breakfast they managed to scrape together that morning.

"This existence is just so pitiful." Morrigan commented as they came into the camp.

"All these people, have no where to go?" Rayne's voice rose at the end, in question.

Had the kid never seen the desperate before? "This is nothing new." Brokk snapped, his voice rough.

The elf's strange eyes drifted down to his, searching for an explanation for his words. "Was this like- I mean, was this like it was in Orzammar?"

"Only for those who were castless." Brokk answered abruptly. He could feel Morrigan's amber eyes on him, now, as well. "Speak no more of this, we have a job to do."

***


End file.
